


happily ever after

by manhattanmatcha



Series: seijoh series [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei Friendship, Hanamaki Takahiro is a Little Shit, Hanamaki Takahiro is a Sweetheart, Humor, I love him, POV Hanamaki Takahiro, hanamaki takahiro is a model, rich aobajousai, this about to be one long mf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26284681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattanmatcha/pseuds/manhattanmatcha
Summary: "Kids, this is how I met your mother. And just let me tell you, I must have done something really, really good in my past life to have met her.""Shut up, Takahiro.""You love me.""Yes, yes I do."
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Reader, Hanamaki Takahiro/You
Series: seijoh series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887868
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	happily ever after

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own haikyuu, nope that's not me.

**5.**

"I mean, it's not like I got _fired,_ " Hanamaki Takahiro says. It is August 2020, and Tokyo is hot, hot, hot. Hanamaki takes another sip of his beer as he watches pedestrians skitter across sidewalks in the shade of the air-conditioned restaurant. "I quit. I was not fired."

"Is there a difference," Oikawa Tooru wrinkles his nose when he asks. Before landing in Japan the young and infamous setter had been coerced into an arrangement to buy drinks if Team Argentina won, and his best friends had held him to his promise and then some. "Matsukawa, you are _not getting--"_

"Yes, I'd like Number 13. And Number 16. And another round of beer, please," their friend grins wolfishly in response to Oikawa. "Thanks," he says to the waitress. Matsukawa Issei leans back into his chair. "I believe we were talking about Makki."

Iwaizumi Hajime rolls his eyes. "Makki. You're 26. How have you not changed since 16."

"It's a talent," Hanamaki snorts. "Oikawa has volleyball, you have sports science, Mattsun just generally aces whatever he puts his mind to--"

"--thank you, thank you--"

"--and I have my inability to stick with anything," he shrugs. "I just didn't really care for it. I mean, do I look like a real estate person? No."

"That's another job to cross off the list," Mattsun snickers. "Soon you'll have to get down to entry 51, underwear model. Bro, I heard they make good money. Who knows, you might love it."

"You really think that?" Iwaizumi wonders, ignoring tipsy Mattsun. "So you're going to be like this until you're, what, 96?"

"Yep, and I'll be saying _I told you so_ when we're all geriatric and drinking lukewarm water instead of beer," Hanamaki nods. "Hey, do you think I'll finally be able to beat you in an arm wrestling match by then?"

Oikawa's eyes narrow. "You're going to find something soon," he prophesies.

"You say it like it's a curse!" Mattsun guffaws.

"Yeah. Don't be so gloomy, Shittykawa. Hey, wanna bet?" Iwaizumi's eyes sparkle at the possibility of winning more money from Oikawa.

Secretly, Hanamaki is wary. Oikawa is smart. In every situation he's always calculated at least 10 moves ahead. It feels unwise to bet against him.

"You're on, Iwa-chan," Oikawa chirps. "If Makki doesn't commit to something by the end of four months, I'll shave my head."

Hanamaki chokes. "So... You're certainly taking this very seriously. Or not seriously enough."

"That's a good wager," Iwaizumi nods. "If he does commit I'll... what do you want?"

"The 50 yen you stole from me that we both chipped in for autograph paper for when we went to that game and I wanted Blanco's autograph but you got Koji Handa's autograph on it!" Oikawa cries. 

Matsukawa splutters. "Is he serious or is he serious?"

"Wait a minute," Iwaizumi interrupts. "I _paid_ you back. i clearly remember--"

"Oh shit, I think they're serious," Matsukawa coughs.

" _No_ you didn't. _I_ clearly remember--"

"They're rich now, man," Hanamaki responds. "You know rich people."

"No. They were like this before," Mattsun argues.

The two best friends look at their best friends, who are now arguing over a game they went to see when they were in elementary school. "You know what, you're right," Hanamaki says, and smiling, he finishes the last of his beer.

**4.**

"So, I have a job for you," is the first thing Hanamaki hears when he answers the call a week later.

"Iwaizumi. I was sleeping. Also, don't you have an conflict of interest?"

His best friend snorts into the phone. "It's 2 in the afternoon. Also, not getting a job and laying in bed counts as committing to sloth, is an argument Trashykawa would use. So, up and at 'em. Meet me at the location I'm texting you in 30 minutes."

"What," Hanamaki whines, feeling very much an adolescent. "And 2 is a decent hour to be asleep when you've had a late night, or should I say early morning. So early, in fact, that I should not be leaving my apartm--"

"30 minutes," Iwaizumi barks, and hangs up.

When Hanamaki arrives, feeling a little hungover still and disoriented in the heat, Iwaizumi leads him to his office, where they both is grateful for the state of the art air conditioning. Iwaizumi gives Hanamaki a once-over and nods approvingly. "Yup, you'll do. (Name)-san!" he calls out.

Hanamaki hears the click of heels and then the door opening behind him. Both him and his best friend turn to watch you breeze into the office, looking completely collected in a linen blazer-skirt set, with two-inch heels to top it off, not a hair out of place in your high ponytail.

Immediately Hanamaki's first thought is: _in this heat? Those clothes?_

His second thought: _she's probably arrogant and conceited. And micromanages. And high maintenance._ He throws a questioning gaze at his best friend.

Iwaizumi ignores him as per usual. "This is the friend I was talking about, (Name)," he says, stepping forward with an iron grip on Hanamaki's forearm. "Hanamaki Takahiro. And Makki, this is (Name)-san. She's a fashion designer. She was looking for someone with an athletic build to work with and model some of her work, and you're the first person I thought of."

Hanamaki bursts into a spontaneous coughing fit. "Pleasure," Hanamaki manages, and shakes your hand.

Your handshake is firm, the handshake of a person who knows what she wants, and usually gets it. "Thank you so much for agreeing to do this! Iwaizumi-san already gave me your contact details, he just wanted us to meet in person once," You smile. "Do you want to finish things up here and meet me outside for a coffee afterwards? I know a place. I was thinking I could debrief you on the details..."

Hanamaki has already tuned you out. _Yup, high maintenance._ He shakes your hand one more time and watches you leave, your ponytail swinging. As soon as the door shuts he whirls on his best friend.

Iwaizumi holds his hands up in defense. "She was asking me to sacrifice one of my athletes. I couldn't do that. And then Mattsun was talking about you and underwear modeling, and I just thought-- see, I need her to owe me, or at least get on her good side, so we can get more discount on athletic wear."

"Yeah, that's all good and all," Hanamaki says. "But I'm not an athlete."

"You have the build," Iwaizumi chuffs his shoulder friendly. "See? Rock hard. Muscle. Plus, you're good looking."

"Don't try to flatter me please, it's scary."

"Okay, okay. Will you do it?" Iwaizumi asks.

Hanamaki sighs. _Why not, it's not like I have anything better to do with my time, whatever. I don't care, really._ "Fine," he says. "But you owe me." 

**3.**

The last thing Hanamaki expects is to actually... enjoy the job. And not only the job, but also... the comfort of your company.

What he had originally written off as conceit and arrogance he learns is simply confidence borne through hard work, and a clear preference for tackling problems head on. What he had thought made you high maintenance was actually just your details-oriented personality -- "Subtlety speaks, Makki," you tell him often. "Wanna try one of my earrings? It matches the color of your eyes." He was right about you being a micromanager -- you like to stay on top of everything, including the most minute details -- but you are open and friendly. And he grows fond of your many quirks, such as refusing to pierce your ears due to a deep-rooted fear of sharp things.

"How's the job, Makki," Oikawa asks knowingly one day on FaceTime two months into the bet.

"How do you know everything," he shoots accusingly.

"Hey," his best friend pouts from his screen. "What's with that attitude!"

"Well, 'cos you're acting all-knowing and smug. How do you do it?"

"Iwa-chan told me you seem to be enjoying yourself," Oikawa admits. Then he pauses. "Hey, you couldn't possibly be doing this for me, right?"

"If I say yes, will you send me more dulce de leche?"

"Yes," Oikawa's response is immediate. "Don't tell anyone. But seriously. You don't have to do this, even though I really really don't want to shave my head."

Hanamaki debates telling Oikawa about you. How your fingers pin and fold and sew fabric at lightning speed, how you scrunch your nose when you're deep in concentration, how you drink the world in with your eyes as if you can absorb the color, the vibrancy. But... no, he doesn't want Oikawa to make a big fuss out of something that's not there. "How are you deflecting the blame even from 1000 miles away? You only have yourself to fault for this one. Anyways, I'm a really good friend. I better see a package come for me soon."

"You're the man, Makki," Oikawa crows. "Makki rules."

"Makki sucks," Iwaizumi tells you later. The three of you have gathered for drinks after work. 

"Slander," Hanamaki calls. You laugh. Secretly, Hanamaki feels a burst of pride for making you laugh.

"No, really," Iwaizumi is slurring. "We made a bet within our group of friends that if he would never commit to something for four months, or something like that. And now all of a sudden he found this. And he's not even trying to prove me wrong. He just happened to find something that he liked right after we made that bet."

"Thanks to you," Hanamaki adds.

"That's true. I shot myself in the foot there. Everyone can thank me for the debut of Hanamaki the model."

"Only for this season," he says, looking to you. "Right?"

"Actually..." you blush. Iwaizumi cocks his head. "...actually nothing! Nevermind!"

Hanamaki knows there's more to the story, but he decides not to push. It was probably meaningless. After all, you're somebody who speaks her mind. 

_You're curious, though,_ a little voice in his head pipes up.

_Oh, shut up._

**2.**

"I'm coming home," Oikawa announces at the end of a 50 minute ramble about... Hanamaki doesn't know, he wasn't listening. He suspects none of his friends have, either. Mattsun keeps inconspicuously peeking above the camera, and Iwaizumi is straight up scrolling through his feed, not bothering to hide his disinterest. 

But this gets all of his best friends' attention. Oikawa pouts. "None of you were listening."

"Are you really?" Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa smirks. "Gotta collect my 50 yen in person, Iwa-chan. Plus, I want to see Makki walk in his fashion show."

"Who told him," Hanamaki narrows his eyes.

Mattsun deliberately looks away.

Even Iwaizumi looks a little guilty. "You're an asshole, Shittykawa," he says, half-heartedly. Makki narrows his eyes even more.

"Traitors!"

"You're the traitor! I can't believe you never told me!" Oikawa blurts out. "Even if I'm living in Argentina, I'm still your best friend! I'm still your captain! I can't believe you didn't tell me you were walking in a FASHION SHOW!"

"Yeah, like I nee-- are you seriously coming back home for this stupid thing."

"Not 'this stupid thing', have some sense of pride for your job... why, are the pieces really bad?"

"No!" Hanamaki shoots up in his chair. "(Name) is an amazing designer. It's actually insane. She started this company a year ago and she's already had to take on 16 employees and a few of her outfits have already by VOGUE. But she insists on keeping everything small so she can ensure the quality and taste of everything is 100% authentic..." Hanamaki trails off when he realizes Mattsun, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi are openly smirking. "What," he says, feeling a little defensive.

"That's the other reason I want to come back," Oikawa says, still smirking a little. 

"What?"

"Cmon, man," Mattsun groans. "It's no secret that a little birdie has caught your eye..."

His best friend's taunting voice still lingers in Hanamaki's head a week later, when you and him are going over minute changes. "Makki, are you okay?" you ask concernedly, a wrinkle etched into your forehead.

He pokes a finger into the crevice. "You'll get wrinkles."

You stick your tongue out at him instead. "Seriously, you can tell me anything."

Hanamaki sighs. "It's--it's nothing. What were you going to say the other day, when we went out with Iwa? You were going to say something but stopped yourself."

You blush, a sight that never fails to deliver a punch to Hanamaki's gut -- he feels the need to remind himself to breathe. "I was... okay, I know you hate 'commitment' and all that. But I was offering you a job."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. Is that disappointment he feels? _No I'm not,_ Hanamaki thinks. _How could I be disappointed if I never expected anything in the first place._ Outwardly he flashes a grin. "Does it pay as well as this?"

"I don't actually know," you hum thoughtfully. "But the other day one of the agents for this modelling company I work with sometimes spotted one of your shots, and she almost salivated. They really want you. I said I would ask." 

"What do you think?"

"I think if it were me, I would definitely go for it. They're a famous company. Vogue and Harpers Bazaar look towards that company exclusively. It's very hard to get in based on a spot, because there are people literally lining up for auditions, or 'looks'. But, I'm also really passionate about fashion. What I want and what you want are different."

Hanamaki thinks about his past four months. He's enjoyed himself. There are tiring aspects of being a model, as well as boring ones -- standing still as the tailor made adjustments, the blinding flashes, having to reshoot the same photo with the tiniest differences in makeup, but it's still fun for him. He is a generally laid back guy and maybe that is he is able to digest the intensity of the modeling world so easily. He tells this to you.

You think about it seriously. "I say go for it," you say. "If you hate it you can always quit."

Hanamaki agrees. "Yeah. Thanks, (Name)."

"I anticipate the day when I get to witness your fiery, passionate side!" You gesture wildly with your hands.

He chuckles. It's so easy to laugh around you. "Yeah, you keep waiting. You sit there and wait."

**1.**

The VOGUE photographer shakes his hand. "It's been a pleasure working for you," she says flirtatiously. "Hanamaki-san... oh gosh, this is so weird, we're the same age! Just call me Risa-chan and in return I'll call you Takahiro!"

"No thanks," Hanamaki says, a little unnerved. The makeup artist shakes his head. "Risa, control yourself. You know I'm going to report this. Sorry about that, man," he says.

"Uh, no problem," Hanamaki replies, "Is it okay if I get going now? I'm kind of meeting someone..."

"Yeah, no problem. Someone will email you when the issue is out. You're a big deal now, with so many pages this year." 

Hanamaki nods his thanks and quickly leaves the chill makeup artist with the protesting "Risa-chan", who is now saying, "Ah, but I always get drinks after work! Let's ask him..." the rest is blocked out by his cell phone ringing.

"The brats are meeting right now in Rome at the FIVB Volleyball Men's World Championship Finals," a whiny voice greets him.

"You are so obsessed with them. It's unhealthy," Hanamaki laughs. "Too bad you're in America preparing for the NORCECA."

"The team is obsessed with the portions here. I am too. They're HUGE, by that I mean HUGE," Oikawa sounds like a little boy who has been taken to Tokyo Disney. 

"I know, I saw the picture you sent on the groupchat."

"And you will never believe. Guess what? You won't be able to because you'll never believe so I'll just tell you. I saw you. Me and Gino and Juan went shopping and we saw you in one of the windows. You're even more famous than me now."

"As if," Makki scoffs, a little distracted. He's running behind schedule, and he does not want to be even almost-late today.

"You sounds distracted," Oikawa says accusingly. "Oh! Is it--"

"Gottago," Makki blurts out as he sprints towards an open taxi. He is damned if that couple is going to get there first. "Textyoulater."

"Good luc--" Makki cuts the phone and exhales with his entire body with relief when he slides into the open door. The couple gives him an annoyed look and he looks away a little guiltily as he leans forward to give the cab driver the address.

On the way to the restaurant his phone rings again. "Yo, bro," Mattsun says.

"Bro. I think I'm nervous. Like my palms are sweating and stuff."

"You are so lucky that at the age of 28 is the first time you were nervous," Mattsun chuckles, like he isn't exactly the same. "Want me to recite a Sanskrit good luck charm for you?"

"Sure."

"Jai guru devaaaaaaaaa, ommmmmmm."

Hanamaki feels like he has heard that phrase before. He starts to feel a little suspicious, but the pounding in his heart has ceased a little. "Since when do you learn Sanskrit?"

"It was in a Beatles song."

"Man! I knew it sounded familiar!" Hanamaki crows. 

"Mhm. Feel better?" Mattsun asks, chomping something that sounds like an apple.

"A little." Hanamaki admits.

"Then it worked. You're going to kill it. Don't sweat."

"Too late."

"Hahaha, that was pretty good. Alright, I'll hang up now. Come over after."

"Mm," Hanamaki responds, distracted again. _Why is the traffic here so awful,_ he thinks. The line disconnects for a minute before his phone starts to ring again.

"Technically if things go well you owe me, since I was the one who hooked you up."

"Hooked me up," Hanamaki states deadpan. As if you were a drug. Actually, if he thinks about it some more, that analogy is pretty apt. "Yes, whatever, IF this goes well. She might be bewildered and run away."

"Why?"

"'Cause she sees me as a guy nonchalant about.. pretty much everything. She might think I've been abducted by aliens."

Iwaizumi chuckles into the phone. "You're so cute when you're nervous."

"Well, _one_ of us might enjoy it."

"Let me know how it goes first."

"Hmm..."

"Remember how you two met in the first place."

"Alright, fine."

* * *

Hanamaki Takahiro is holding your hand, and you don't know how you feel about this. Actually, you do know. Your heart is racing and redness and warmth are spreading all over your chest and cheeks. This is, after all, what you've been dreaming of for the past 2 years. Your insides feel jumbled.

 _Listen to what he is saying, (Name),_ you chide yourself.

"A little over a year ago, you said you were anticipating the day I went rogue and showed you passion, and fire. Well, here's it. I mean, it's kind of anticlimatic, probably, I'm sure you have a super dynamic sense of what passion and fire and drama means... but this is just how I am, or at least this is how I show it, I mean. Well, what I'm getting at is, er, you, can probably guess, but I'minlovewithyou and I do feel so passionately when it comes to you, the most crushing tenderness at your weird little quirks, I catch my breath when you laugh sometime--"

 _Wait. What?_ "You love me?" you blurt out.

Hanamaki Takahiro throws you a sheepish smile. "Um, yes? Anyways, what I was saying is--"

"But I love _you_ ," you blurt out.

Now it feels like you are sitting across from the sun. Or maybe, you are the sun yourself. So much happiness exudes your guys' table, you feel like it could power the electricity of a small third world country. The rest is a blur, a tangle of fingers, lips, clothes, moans, happy sighs; all accompanied by heaven's music.

"I've waited for this for so long," he later admits, the two of you deeply ensconced under your comforter.

"Me too," you say, and giggle. "It still doesn't feel real."

"I love you."

"I love you m-- is that your phone ringing, or mine?" Sure enough, there is classical music floating from the heap of clothes on the floor; that was the "heaven's music" you had heard while you made love. 

"Shit," Takahiro curses. Reluctantly, he slides out of bed. "Mat-- ugh, I told Iwa I would tell him first. Bye." Another incoming call slices through the air, this time a different classical piece: "Iw--yes, I owe you. Tell everyone to stop bothering me. I want to spend time with my girlfriend in peace now." There's a smile in his voice as he says the word, and the same smile graces your face as you replay his sentence. _Girlfriend._

"I love you," your boyfriend mumbles into your neck before the two of you drift off into sleep. 

_Love you, too._

* * *

"Kids, this is how I met your mother. And just let me tell you, I must have done something really, really good in my past life to have met her."

"Shut up, Takahiro," there's no malice, only...

"You love me." A smile. He understands you.

"Yes, yes I do."

"You guys are gross," your eldest daughter proclaims, and pretends to retch.


End file.
